


bitter pill, no water

by Star_less



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complete, Desperation, Episode: s02e08 The Impossible Planet, Episode: s02e08-09 The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit, Episode: s02e09 The Satan Pit, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Fanfiction, My First Work in This Fandom, Non-Sexual, Not Canon Compliant, Omorashi, One Shot, Plot What Plot, T for swears, david tennant if you read this I’m sorry, gallifreyan biology, non sexual omo is my Brand, pee shyness, this has pee in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 00:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: He came face to face with an Ood....Or more specifically the burning-red eyes of an Ood who snarled at him and pounced in one fluid motion, foamy spittle dripping off of its tendrils, translator ball outstretched to attack; although it still spoke all soft and polite. "The Beast will rise with his Legion! The Beast will make War against God!""OH!" The Doctor jolted back in surprise and jammed his legs together at the last second. "Sorry, sorry, shouldn't have interrupted you... Beast, Pit, yada yada..."Shit. Shit, shit, shit.The Doctor wasn't really one for swearing, but he wasn't sure what was worse. Possessed Ood or the fact that he really might not get to use the bathroom any time soon...Stranded on Sanctuary Base Six for the foreseeable future, everybody’s favourite Time Lord chooses the wrong time to need the toilet.





	bitter pill, no water

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Double Detoxing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807829) by [Forget_About_Me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forget_About_Me/pseuds/Forget_About_Me). 

> THIS HAS PISS IN IT click back if you don’t like piss please and thank YOU
> 
> This fanfiction is solely inspired by the works of Forget_About_Me (and the orphan account who made spinoffs of THAT person’s fics) - they’re brilliant, absolutely fantastic, go and read them NOW if you’re into that kinds thing — but I need more. THIS ONE GOES OUT TO ELEVEN YEAR OLD ME WHO DAYDREAMED ABOUT SEEING THE TENTH DOCTOR NEED TO PEE ON A DAILY BASIS. MWAH. ✌🏼
> 
> First work in this fandom sorry for corrupting it I’m not that bad I promise

“You want some?” Rose asked in between a mouthful of as yet identified food, chewing slowly. She looked down at the splattered puddle of blue cubes the Ood had scooped onto her tray and gingerly speared apart one of the cubes with her plastic fork. The cube was, she startled to know, a lighter blue inside and the chunky blue sauce it was slathered in, was unusually sweet. “I don’t even know what it is.”  
They had only been on Sanctuary Base Six for a matter of hours but she supposed it was best to throw herself head first into the experience, and if that meant eating strange food offered by a strange alien dinnerlady, so be it.

”Protein-3. Bit like chicken korma. Not one of my favourites.” the Doctor supplied quietly. He was turned slightly away from her, his legs tucked in tightly at the ankles and the rubber bumper of his left Converse gingerly scratching the other leg. 

Rose knew something was the matter. He was never usually this subdued. She thought for a moment that he was upset at losing the TARDIS, his entire livelihood, but his fidgety little mannerisms were pushing her train of thought in a different direction. Shrugging it off for now, she turned her attention to the drink she had been offered and sipped experimentally. “Ohhhh!” her eyes lit up, wide and round as she swallowed and passed the cup to the Doctor. “Oh, you have to try this. It’s like a banana milkshake!”

The Doctor peered apprehensively at the cup, popping the lid off and taking a large sip to find... that Rose was right.  
Before he could quite stop himself he had gulped down the remainder of the cup. He hated himself for it about three entire femtoseconds later, when his bladder gave an unhappy little pulse.   
Yes — there was his problem in all of its ugly glory. He had to pee, and the situation was getting rather urgent. He had paid very little attention to his body over the past few days, preferring to ignore his need entirely the second he had emptied until, three days later, right here, it reared its ugly head. And it couldn’t have chosen a worse time. The TARDIS had gone and was gone forever so it was hardly as though he could nip off for a quick wee in private like he so desperately wanted to. No; he had no choice but to ask one of the crew members where the closest toilet was— and just thought of doing that was enough to make the apples of his cheeks burn, never mind actually doing so.  
He put the cup down carefully, pulling a face at the persistent nagging in his bladder and rearranging himself slightly in his seat to try and soothe it. 

“Imagine living here... you’d have to get a mortgage!” Rose joked, eyeing him. Not that it was much of a joke, but she wanted so desperately to chip away at this moody little exterior he seemed to have put up.

He looked at her, picking at a crumb on the table. “No!” he said in dismay, jaw dropping, grasping at any distraction from his full bladder with both hands. Oh, yeah, she teased him and he moaned, shaking his head. “I’m dying. That’s it, I’m dying. It’s all over.” He said. _Dying to pee, that is,_ said the little voice in the back of his head, and the moment had gone. Hyper aware of his bladder once more he shakily sighed, dropping his hand below the table to rub at his thigh through the fabric of his suit (as if that would do anything). He had tried to make sure Rose wouldn’t see this, but she did. 

She squinted. The penny rolled to a thudding stop. “...Where are you?” She said bluntly but kindly all the same. “On the scale?”  
Of course, she could have gone in all guns blazing and admitted she knew he had to pee but Rose knew then he would have shut down and denied it completely. At least with the scale he was a smidgen happier to talk about his needs in public than he would be otherwise. That was the entire reasoning behind the scale, anyway, and was why they had devised it in the first place.

The Doctor let out another sigh. “Five,” he murmured with a wrinkle of his nose. Five that was quickly hurtling into a six, which meant he was pretty needy by Gallifreyan biological standards.  
Rose reached out in sympathy, rubbing his knuckles. Even at her gentle touch he was scrunched up and tense, not daring to relax. 

“...D’you want me to ask where the nearest loo is?” Rose asked kindly, watching as the rest of the crew pottered around their evening duties. “I mean, they— they must have loos here, yeah?”   
It was only the 42nd century after all; she assumed that humans hadn’t advanced enough to not need to tend to their biological needs. Besides, if she was going to be stuck here forever— she was human, too. 

“Rose, no—!” he hissed under his breath, rising quickly to his feet. “No no no n—!”

”Ida? Ida, right?” Rose smiled at the closest crew member. The Doctor sunk, face in an unhappy crumple.  
Ida turned to face Rose and flashed an unsure smile in return; Rose began to speak. “Can I use the loo?”   
...she laughed slightly and made a show of bending at the knees.

Ida chuckled, relaxing. “You’ve had the food, right?”—her voice full of sympathy—“Oh it goes right through you!”   
She nodded, waving a little way down the corridor. “The quake earlier ripped out the bathrooms in area five to eight, I’m afraid. Your closest one now is down there, by the living quarters. You can’t miss it, trust me. Little symbol on the door. Man. Women too, though.”

Rose nodded her thanks and retreated back to the Doctor as Ida went back to working. “There,” the blonde whispered triumphantly. “Go on. Nip off quick. They’re not going to notice.” 

The Doctor bit his lip and considered this for a long, long moment in between shifting foot to foot. Finally, with his bladder pummelling his insides enough for his internal battle to be settled, he moved quickly in the direction that Ida had pointed out.  
~

The Doctor ducked awkwardly into the first door he saw in the living quarters in the midst of silently praying that he wasn’t walking into somebody’s sleeping area. A sigh of blissful relief pushed itself past his gritted teeth as he adjusted to his surroundings. There in a puddle of luminous yellow light, was a toilet. A dank and murky looking toilet, but a toilet all the same. Next to it, a sink with a cube of soap. Good enough; it was good enough, decided the urgent slap his bladder gave him.  
Mouth dry in anticipation, the Doctor fumbled awkwardly with the fastenings of his trousers—why was it that the second you decided you were bursting for a wee it became impossible to do even the simplest of tasks?!—letting out a panicked little cough as he struggled to coordinate his fingers. After what felt like an age even for him he had managed to whisk himself out of the confines of his boxers, and..... 

Nothing. He could feel it, all heavy and hot just behind his tip. Pressing— itching—in wait for him to just let go...  
Come on, he pleaded to himself, quiet, come on, come on, come on—breath hitched as he watched a single drop splash into the toilet water beneath. Just a matter of seconds ago the sight of the toilet had him nearly soaking himself—and now he was only capable of producing a drop?!  
He shifted his feet impatiently, toes tightening in his Converse. Slowly, his ears tuned into the gentle sounds of the base around him. The drilling was a constant comforting sort of hum—but alongside it there was a new noise that he hadn’t noticed before.

”Danny? Is that you? It’s not funny, Dan, I’m trying to work. Daniel?”

...a voice, slightly nervous; sounded like it was coming from the Base’s resident archaeologist, Toby. Except as nervous as he was, the thin walls made it sound as if he was standing right next to the Doctor as he spoke... and if the Doctor could hear that, then Toby in return would very obviously hear him relieving himself loud and clear. Oh, no — Toby was disturbed — what if he could hear him, already?  
That thought made him feel... really rather sick. Really rather sick and no matter how much he tried to stand there, to relax right from his shoulders and to think of the most powerful waterfall possible to unclench his tight and aching muscles, just knowing Toby was nearby kept them clenched.   
His bursting bladder stayed full, if achy, and the Doctor sighed regretfully as he shifted and tucked himself back into his trousers. There was no time for it now; he would have to wait.

"Better?” Rose beamed at the Doctor when he reappeared (so he must have been doing an incredibly good job of _acting_ like somebody who had pissed away three days worth of piss); he forced himself to smile and jerkily nod. “Oh, much better. Never better. Perfectly fine! What’s going on?”

Rose shrugged. They had been put onto the duty roster but aside from that and a few funny glitches (the computer system had spat out a few 'He is Awake's in between the constant 'Open Door Three's and 'Close Door Seventeen's) little else. The Doctor shrugged in return, stretched (the hot stone resting in his lower abdomen shifting with him and dying to tease out a little wince) and decided to get stuck in.   
"...Toby!" he called, spotting the quiet archaeologist (making a mental note that Toby had left his quarters and maybe, just maybe, he could pop off to the loo unnoticed next time) and coming to a slow stop in front of the odd hieroglyphs painted on the walls. The ones that he couldn't quite translate.   
Aside from the nagging tickles in his bladder it was the fact that he couldn't translate those symbols that troubled him massively. "Here. Get a crack on trying to decipher these codes, mm?"   
He grinned and his eyes sparkled with renewed excitement as he sat cross legged in front of the symbols. "Might show off something new."  
He slid his glasses a little higher up the bridge of his nose. 

Toby hesitated, looking queasily at the symbols on the wall. "...Okay." he shrugged uneasily, sitting opposite the Doctor.   
~

Now that he had something to focus on, the Doctor worked happily alongside Toby for at least an hour, finding that the constant pleading that he _stop and use the toilet_ stopped chewing at his brain at least fifteen minutes in. That, and the excuse to cross his legs tight in on the pulsing pressure in his nether regions was a _very_ welcome one at the moment, massaging the stabbing pain away into dull hot licks. He wrote, he listened to Toby's theories, he looked over Toby's notes. "...'Welcome to Hell'," he murmured, sitting still. "Who wrote that?"

"...I did." Toby mumbled, still self consciously looking at his bare palms. He didn't even know why he'd written it, really. Something had sort of... like... overtaken him, once. Maybe the stress of being stuck in a fucking flat-pack sanctuary base, he didn't know. But he had sort of blacked out and-- and when he came around again he was staring up at tauntingly swirling letters. His gaze drifted at long last from his palms to the Doctor, and then he frowned. "Hey, are you alright?"

...See, there was just a little thing that the Doctor hadn't quite picked up on. The entire hour he had whiled away gabbling on about symbols and codes and quietly marvelling at the fact that his bladder hadn't done so much as whisper in his direction... he had spent squirming or fidgeting or rocking back and forth. He had drifted so far into his own mind that the sensation of his squirming had slipped his awareness entirely. Now--now while he was sat still and Toby had brought his attention back to the matter at hand--his need cascaded into him like a high speed cannonball. "Uh.." He squeaked, trying to control his breathing so it came out calm and not too depraved-sounding. A string of Gallifreyan curses gushed through his brain. _Pull yourself together!_  
The Doctor let his hand fall into his lap, close-but-not-too-close into crotch squeezing territory even if his fingers were itching to. "Uh, yeah.."  
Not a chance was he telling anybody what was wrong. Anybody but Rose.   
"...I'm doin' great."  
_Are you? Are you sure about that, Doctor?_ cackled the ache in his bladder, thick tendrils of pain squeezing the very pit of his middle. Before he could stop himself he whimpered a little under his breath, shifting and tapping his legs with new intensity.

"You're just.." Toby squinted at the Doctor and then shook his head. Who was he to say anything? He'd only known the man a matter of hours and for all Toby knew he was just a weirdo who squirmed around like a kid due his next dose of Ritalin for the fun of it. And that was without the rest of the weird stuff that had been going on today. "Nah. Nothing."

The Doctor nodded quietly, the muscles in his legs tensing. _Go on,_ said the pleading voice in the back of his head. _Go on, go on, go on. Get up, Doctor..._

"I'm just gonna... slip off." he looked vaguely in the direction of the bathroom, and did exactly that.  
...Out of sight of the crew, the Doctor's movements became that bit more intense. Well, it was either that or the thought of finally being able to piss, anyway. He jogged on his toes toward the bathroom, jaw clenched. Please, no one be back here... he pleaded in panicked whispers to himself all the while nervously nibbling at his lip.   
Finding the corridor quiet the desperate Time Lord sighed and pulled open the door. He dared himself to relax juuuuust that little bit. Maybe everything would be fine. Maybe no one was going to be back here. The base had stopped drilling, maybe everybody was too busy preparing to head onto to the surface to worry about where their secret stowaway was skittering off to.   
Yeah. That sounded okay. He could just... duck in, go—quickly—and be back in time to head off on the expedition with the rest of the team.  
His hands were slick as he grasped at the wheel to open the closed door in front of him, so slick the wheel may as well have been coated in oil for all of his efforts did nothing to make the wheel budge. This was why he hated flatpack sanctuary bases— such— such _ineffective_ pieces of bloody kit—“Come on!” the Time Lord grit his teeth and grunted through them, twisting with as much might as he could muster up. He rose onto his tiptoes. Each pull of the wheel took a little bit of the effort he was using in holding his bladder and as his effort ebbed away so more and more liquid trickled forth. He wheezed, panicked, as the thinnest warmest trickle dampened the very tops of his thighs and stepped all over his toes like a toddler mid-potty-dance to cut it off. _Not here. He was not losing it here. Not in front of a group of strangers who had known him for all of five minutes._  
That little pep talk, although abrupt, managed to entice him into pulling himself together just the slightest bit more. Why wasn’t the door opening? Aside from it being part of some shoddy flatpack build-your-own-space-base?   
Then— then it dawned on him—as he fell silent in thought and jogged every now and then foot to foot. Open door seventeen. Close door thirteen. You had to _verbalise_ it.  
The Doctor cocked his head, falling still for a long, long moment. He had to say it out loud. Sure, none of the crew were nearby... sure, Rose had said they wouldn’t notice if he just snuck off for a quick wee... but saying it _out loud_?! Why, he might as well have held up a flashing neon sign saying I Am The Doctor and I Need To Use The Toilet. How embarrassing for him. Time Lords were supposed to be better than humans.  
Not now you’re not, a ticklish ripple from his bladder told him. The Doctor groaned, a ‘nngh’, under his breath, and made his decision, whispering. “Computer, open door thirty one.”

A different sound punctured the air; a puff as the seal around the door released. When the needy Time Lord moved the wheel this time it twisted freely. The rippling in his bladder grew stronger in anticipation, knowing what was coming next... tongue poking just out from between his teeth, bouncing on his toes. Finally, finally, fina—“Oh!”

He came face to face with an Ood.

...Or more specifically the burning-red eyes of an Ood who snarled at him and pounced in one fluid motion, foamy spittle dripping off of its tendrils, translator ball outstretched to attack; although it still spoke all soft and polite. "The Beast will rise with his Legion! The Beast will make War against God!"

"OH!" The Doctor jolted back in surprise and jammed his legs together at the last second. "Sorry, sorry, shouldn't have interrupted you... Beast, Pit, yada yada..." he stammered, slamming the bathroom door and squirming as he Sonic'd it into lock. Hearts pounding, he skidded around the corner again. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. The Doctor wasn't really one for swearing, but he wasn't sure what was worse. A legion of rabid, possessed Ood or the fact that he really might not get to use the bathroom any time soon...  
~

”Danny, the Ood.” The Doctor said, gripping the railings as he watched the Ood move, single-file, into the habitation area. “It’s... they’re not safe.” He had never seen an Ood rabid like that before. 

”They’re confined to Ood Habitation while the expedition is carried out.” Danny shrugged, speaking into his comms device to the herd of Ood stood in their pen. “You’ll be fine. Go and prepare, Doctor.”

Shut down, the Time Lord groaned under his breath. Rubbing his midsection he staggered off back toward the rest of the crew, trying to swallow back the Very Bad Feeling sort of vibes bubbling in the pit of his gut. He would have stood there and argued until he was red in the face but the bloat in his middle was wicking away his patience with every pulse.  
~

“You need help getting into that thing?” Rose asked with a cheeky smile, watching as the Doctor fidgeted with the baggy orange spacesuit he had... obtained. 

“M’just gonna put it on over my suit...” he mumbled, fidgeting still. He wobbled one-legged in an attempt to tug the suit over both legs, Converse and all; the movement although slight forcing a lightning bolt of radiating pain (and a little something else) to slice right through his middle and downwards. ‘About to come out’ sort of downwards. Quick thinking, he swung over at the waist to stop it, teeth grit.   
When he stood straight again he was stiff, a little pink in the cheeks, and tried his best not to move too much. Trying not to overdo it he flashed a tiny smile at Rose, a tiny ‘I promise I don’t have to pee whatsoever’ sort of smile. Or so he hoped. 

“Here. Lemme help you.” Rose rolled her eyes good naturedly and smiled, rolling up the legs of the suit as you would do for a toddler. She knelt down, held out the legs. “Left!”

In went the left leg.

“Right!”

In went the right. He supposed he should have been embarrassed at Rose doing something like this, something that was more suited to a young child, but really he wasn’t... after all it helped him to focus on the more important thing: not letting go. Even more so when Rose was practically between his legs.  
Rose rolled the thick spacesuit up over his legs, her hands trailing up his thighs to guide the thick padding into the right place. Her touch was gentle but he couldn’t stop his legs from trembling as she did so and hoped, eyes squeezed tight shut, that she just—just wouldn’t notice.  
Slowly, thoughtfully, the movement stopped—so there went that prayer. “Doctor...”  
Rose looked up at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners in sympathy. She pulled his spacesuit into place and stood. “Doctor... you didn’t...”

The Time Lord wilted, trying not to meet Rose’s look. “Ooh, s’been ages since I wore one of these,” he croaked, mentally checking off all of its equipment. “Oxygen, nitro-balance, gravity...”  
He was rambling. He couldn’t help it. Rambling was good, rambling kept his mind from wandering back to how badly he needed to relieve himself—took his mind off of the thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum in his bladder, anyway, even if it was only for five minutes. “But... the last time I wore one of these, Captain..” he piped up, trying to sound conversational under his tight desperate voice so he didn’t give the game away, “It had a— a sort of, _filtration_ system.”

Zac looked him up and down, eyes lingering for a long moment to the bounce in the Doctor’s knee that he hadn’t noticed before. He snorted, derisively. “No chance. Cross your legs.”

Rose slid his helmet into place for him and paused before she kissed the glass shield, even though he had tipped his head forward. He looked... not _frightened_—never frightened—but his face was contorted in a worried little grimace as if he wasn’t quite sure he’d make it and his legs had been non-stop trembling for as long as he’d been standing there in place. “...Whereabouts are you now?”

”Seven,” he swallowed thickly, thought about it, and shamefully closed his eyes. “Nearly.”

Rose kissed the shield of the helmet sympathetically, letting him push all of his weight into her as they had their final hug. Only then she could hear his heavy breathing as he fought to conceal his private pulsing ocean inside him; every secret whimper and hitch in breath. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna come back in one piece.” 

He took a deep breath, composed himself, and cracked his trademark manic grin as though suddenly he was fine. “See you soon.” He smiled, and disappeared with Ida into the capsule.  
~

The journey in the capsule was quiet, a little shuddering, but quiet. So long as the Time Lord kept his legs pressed together, it wasn’t as bad of a trek as he thought it would’ve been considering his… situation.  
In fact, down there on the surface was… well, it was really rather beautiful, but whatever the Sanctuary Base crew were expecting to find wasn’t there. It was all barren, twinkled caverns, dusty rock floors. He sort of got the impression, walking slowly around it, that something was missing. Energy signature north west, Ida said. But nothing. All of that exploring, for this? No. Surely not.

“Toby found his civilisation…” The Doctor remarked, looking at the carved statues and writing etched into the walls. 

The rubber bumper of his Converse nudged something. A seal. Or a trapdoor. The sight of it made something uncomfortable swirl up in his stomach. He coughed, pressing his thighs a little more as the ground juddered and the seal began to open up…  
Well, there was no other decision to make, he decided, staring down into the Pit. Could be thirty feet. He could manage thirty feet. They had cabling. His mind whirred, throwing plan on top of plan all precarious and wobbling. The fact his bladder was bursting was nothing but a whisper drowned out over his overexcited thinking, as he bounced and shifted and clicked cable line to cable line into place. He teetered on the edge of the seal, hanging back. Go on, Doctor… urged a new voice.

Well. Now would’ve been a good time to hope that his spacesuit had a filtration system, after all…

Down he plunged. Landed on an air pocket—alive, lovely. For a tiny moment before his consciousness sparked back into him he wondered if his body had taken care of everything for him because there was nothing and it had been a little while since the Doctor had felt the sensation of not needing to pee… but then, in it plunged. He writhed and twitched on the floor with a groan, pressing hard against the suit. There’s your superior biology, Time Lord, he thought to himself. Could he pull himself together long enough for him not to be disgraced in front of all these people? Oh, of course not. Could he survive a fall and not piss himself on impact? Oh yes. Standing (and then staggering as gravity crushed his insides and decided that now was a great time for him to spurt a little) he tried to take in his surroundings. He scratched his thighs with a nervous groan as a last ditch attempt to shut down his bladder’s demands, before a low rumbling growl ate him whole.   
Head snapping frantically he came face to face with the treasure of the Pit… the Beast himself.   
The roaring, snarling, thrashing… oddly _quiet_ Beast. Up on the Sanctuary Base the Doctor quite thought he had become well acquainted with the Beast. He had a brilliant voice, a brilliant mind but… that wasn’t here, that wasn’t taunting him right now. Where was it? If the Beast was trapped down here, then where was his mind?

Something rumbled in the distance. The rocket. The Doctor watched it go overhead and gasped in grim realisation as about five different pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. His gaze drifted to the clay pots stood on their pedestals and, jaw set, he slammed a rock down onto each of them in quick succession. The Beast roared and screamed in lightningly hot rage and as he tantrummed on to his doom the ground beneath the Doctor’s feet began to quake. The Doctor had no choice but to ride the storm out, fists clenched teeth grit jaw tightened, even as the force of the quakes threw him backwards onto his bum. Landing on the dusty ground feet away, he could feel the area between his legs filling with a warm wetness before he could even realise what was going on. Dizzily blinking tears out of his eyes he looked up and—for one long, shameful little moment—considered letting go entirely. Being stuck down here for the foreseeable future, after all, meant the only one who would have to live knowing this particular dirty little secret was the Doctor himself…  
He put his hands between his legs, pressed tightly, and shivered as the warm wetness squelched and dribbled into the most unmentionable of places. 

_I don’t think so,_ said a voice. Wait, no. Thought a voice. A ‘voice’, more like a consciousness, really… that could only mean…

Adjusting to his surroundings again he drew his gaze upwards and there she was, his big, beautiful girl—the TARDIS! That meant—well, that meant a lot of things. He could save Ida, he could save every single one of the crew on board that rocket, he could… he could _pee_. Oh wow. He almost didn’t know what was most brilliant. Laughing in relieved happiness, he patted the wood of the door and shakily rose to his feet. First things first…

_’You really need to stop waiting so long, my Thief!’_ The TARDIS scolded him, a telepathic lightning bolt right to the back of his brain. He winced, hands running blindly down his spacesuit as he looked for the poppers and frantically began to peel himself out of his suffocating spacesuit. As if I don’t know that?! He spat back silently.  
In the midst of his frantic panic—floating far away from him—there was the sound of a door creaking open. Then, just in case he missed it entirely, another telepathic twinkle _‘Look. I’ve opened the door for you. Hurry up.’_  
The Time Lord, alone, moaned to himself as he stumbled into the open and awaiting bathroom. Something about having the toilet there, silent, ready for him to use was playing havoc with his bladder. It had always been in the background—thrumthrumthrumthrum—but suddenly there was a beating coming in time with his two hearts enough to tease little trickles down his legs.  
By that point he was bouncing, spurts coming with every bounce, spacesuit collapsing with a rustle at his ankles.   
His muscles twitched, daring him to relax—but— his _suit!_—he was still wearing _his suit!_  
Why oh why did he have to put the spacesuit on over his regular suit?! Stupid, stupid idea! Grunting, sweaty fingers fumbled with the fastening on his trousers. The zipper suddenly seemed microscopic and too fiddly to grasp with his fingers; his breath caught tightly in his throat and finally he yanked the zipper down so hard it broke altogether.   
…With it, came a long hard slash of pee that he just about managed to miss spraying into his boxers (if he squeezed very tight and made an embarrassing little ‘hngh’ noise, that was.)  
The tiny room filled at long last with the echoing sound of pee against porcelain, a few strangled gasps of relief pulled out from between his teeth, and a few more of those embarrassing little noises, too; although he wasn’t strictly alone he supposed Ida was too deep into her oxygen starvation to be able to comprehend what he was doing. Well, that and he couldn’t quiet himself even if he tried…!  
Relief rolled in gentle waves over his shoulders and then down, further and further, all the way to his toes as he pissed. More than three days worth, surely? He ran his free hand through his hair in bliss and watched his stream gush and bubble into the water.  
~

”...so why’d you hide it from me?” Rose asked, watching as the Doctor fiddled with some levers and knobs on the console, ready to set the TARDIS into flight now that they had left the Sanctuary Base crew. She couldn’t help it; it had been eating away at her ever since she had noticed.

“Hide what?” He fidgeted a little more intensely with a lever, knowing exactly what Rose was talking about. 

She laughed. “You know. I thought you’d nipped to the loo earlier. Why not?”   
At this the Doctor blanched a fetching shade of pink. He almost wondered how she could talk about it so openly. “Toby was working across the hall.” He stated, a whine creeping in. “I didn’t want him to...”

”Oh, Doctor, you’re _not!_” Rose gasped, biting her tongue as a laugh of disbelief bubbled past. “You’re _never_. You’re not _shy!_”

The Doctor didn’t meet her gaze, closing his eyes to fight back a blush. Quite how she had come to that conclusion he wasn’t too sure—after all, even in the comfort of the TARDIS he only ever used the toilet while Rose was asleep. He nodded, subdued again, and Rose fell quiet now feeling a bit sorry for him. 

“...sorry.” She shrugged it off, sitting down and swinging her legs. “Just, there’s no need to be. Toby was probably too engrossed in his work to notice.”  
The Doctor didn’t answer, just quietly nodded. Rose thought. “Poor Toby.”

At this, the Doctor hummed, glad for the change in conversation. Poor Toby indeed. That was the peril of travelling in time and space, he supposed. “Then there was that thing with the Ood." he wrinkled his nose, shrugging the thought out of his mind. "On we go. Any requests?”

”...I’d love to pop in on my Mum.” Rose admitted sheepishly. It hadn’t been long since she and Jackie had parted but after leaving SB6 it felt like almost aeons at the same time. 

The Doctor smiled. It was hardly the most exciting of places but after the adventure they’d just had he was glad for the change in pace. “Tyler residence it is!”

The TARDIS vworped softly and on they drifted; called by the sound of one Jackie Tyler, saying she'd made tea. Mmm. Now that he thought about it, the Doctor really fancied a cup of tea.   
Just... not too many.

**Author's Note:**

> I met David Tennant when I was a kid (weird flex but ok) and man I bet he thought I was such a sweetie and here I am at twenty writing shit like this and disappointing him ouch !!!
> 
> Also imagine how inconvenient it would be to need to piss in the Whoniverse like in this fic the monster of the week basically went on holiday but like what if the Doctor had to pee in the middle of a Cyberman invasion? Can’t cos the minute you stand still you’re deleted. BIGGEST FUCKIN FEAR. honestly would still cry if I saw a cyber. Get away from me stinky metal man x
> 
> Comment n kudos if you liked this and I’ll make sure you don’t get exterminated, mwah x


End file.
